


The Most Successful Supervillain

by l00ps



Category: Original Work
Genre: Disturbing Themes, Serial Killers, Supervillains, Villains
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-01
Updated: 2019-09-01
Packaged: 2020-10-04 16:49:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 820
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20474333
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/l00ps/pseuds/l00ps
Summary: A Short disturbing story based on a writing prompt:"WP: In a world of superheroes and super villains you are perhaps the most successful supervillains ever. Your trick is that you don't wear any costumes and as far as you know you aren't in any superheroes' radars."





	The Most Successful Supervillain

It took him exactly two years before he realized he was a supervillain. It didn’t come out as a surprise, when he thought about it. A serial killer turning into a supervillain wasn’t exactly a big step. It was a small thing, like arriving five minutes earlier instead of being punctual.

He had tried to avoid the typical supervillain actions and tendencies. He didn’t wear costumes. He didn’t unintentionally nor intentionally acquire a rival. He didn’t make speeches, or make grand schemes to take over the world or a city, nor did he make public appearances in which he could be recognized. And as hard as it was, he maintained no fixations on any individual. 

He just made the world a less safe place.

…Okay, perhaps that right there was what should have tipped him off that he was a supervillain – but it didn’t. He confined himself to perimeters. You are a serial killer, and you can only kill on random dates. By random, he really did try to randomize the dates. He rolled dices, and didn’t have any preferences when it came to how he did it, nor the gender or age of his victims. He didn’t even have a dump site, keepsakes, nor does he leave any witnesses. 

He really didn’t want to be a supervillain. Supervillains always felt like a fairytale word. The ones he frequently saw on television were ridiculous, often, for they had big plans and bigger dreams. And the more annoying part was that villains had their counterparts. The good to their evil. The one who always wins. The one people love. The ones who saves. 

He wanted no part in the fairytale. He wanted no part of the equal world. 

So, what exactly did make him realize he became a supervillain? His victims. He should have realized it earlier. It was blatant. It glared at him right at his face. He avoided a lot of things, but he couldn’t avoid patterns. He randomized the dates, but he didn’t randomize the victims enough. He gravitated towards a pattern, one which will definitely be seen once someone looks at its way. 

As much as he wanted to hate it, the mere idea of being discovered sent shivers down his spine. It made him inhale nervously, like he used to do when he was new in the killing business.

He picked his victims thoroughly. He picked the ones who were lucky in their lives. Lucky enough to be saved by heroes, that is. After all, who were they that they deserved to be saved? What exactly did they do that made them luckier than the others, to escape the clutches of men who wished them harm? 

Who gave the survivors the right to live?

Oh, he didn’t kill them right off the bat. He didn’t kill all survivors, he just rolled a dice, and get to whoever is lucky. Half the time, he didn’t kill them, either. He gave them a few months or a few weeks, then he kills whoever was closest to them. It made it fair. It made it equal. It made it right.

He came to terms with being a supervillain, after actually realizing and acknowledging that he had levelled up. Took him a few days, to be honest. Nowadays, he just kept on with his routine. Watch the news. Read the news. Memorize the names of survivors. Keep his college grades up. Study. Watch porn. Kill people. Kill more people. 

Realizing he was a supervillain did have an upside. He couldn’t wait for someone to finally notice him. To acknowledge his work. His efforts. For someone to see that side of him. It gets lonely sometimes, after all. Perhaps, sharing his tale wouldn’t be as bad as he thought. The more he thought about it the more exciting it seemed. Maybe, just maybe, he just needed to up the stakes.

It was definitely the supervillain part of him that got him excited at the prospect of having someone call him out. He was so tired of being sick and deprived without anyone telling him he is. He wanted his hero. The moment that thought got into his head, he couldn’t get rid of it. 

“I just want someone to tell me that I’m wrong. Is that such a bad thing?” 

A sob broke through the thick air. Random Survivor’s Family Member #115 once again became noticed, her voice muffled, auburn hair messy. Tears and snot drizzled down her face, distracting him from his monologue. He talks like a supervillain, now, too. How fucking funny is that? Seriously, how fucking funny? Why the fuck won’t she fucking laugh?

Well, if she wanted to die sobbing, then it’s her choice. Him, on the other hand, will enjoy laughing.

Waiting was tiring, but he didn't want to make it easy for his hero. She was going to be special, after all.

Just like him.


End file.
